


The Waiting Room

by raginghappily



Category: Rooster Teeth Productions RPF, Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mavin, RageHappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-04 14:24:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raginghappily/pseuds/raginghappily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know how they say that time slows down when you’re about to die? That your life is supposed to flash before your eyes? </p><p>All Michael could see was Gavin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First Mavin fanfiction. Prompt requested by 'michaelimscared' on tumblr!

You know how they say that time slows down when you’re about to die? That your life is supposed to flash before your eyes?

Michael wasn’t sure it was true. Because as the car lurched and twisted, he couldn’t see  _anything_. He’d lost count of how many times the car had rolled by this point, and the only thing he  _was_ sure of was just how much closer the roof of the car was getting to crushing his head each second. The glass from the windows had shattered long ago, and the shards were like small diamonds etching into Michael’s skin. The thick smell of iron permeated the air, and by the time the vehicle was done flipping, the smell was so potent that Michael was positive he was going to throw up.

Throwing up while upside down probably wouldn’t end very well, and it was that ridiculous thought that allowed Michael to keep it together. He forced open his eyes which, until now, he had never known were closed so tightly. His ears were ringing, and he was almost positive he could hear yelling from outside the car, but even clearer than that was the sound of…of  _dripping_.

Michael made the move to undo his seat-belt as he felt the beginnings of his panic, but felt an enormous weight on his arm when he tried to do so. Turning his head, Michael begged his vision to swim back into focus long enough so he could figure out what the fuck it was that had such a purchase on the limb he needed to function. Once his vision decided to cooperate, he immediately wished it hadn’t.

“Oh…oh God, oh  _Christ_ ,” Michael cried, his voice hoarse and his tone full of anguish. “Please…no, no, no!”

Gavin lay next to Michael, his hand clutched onto Michael’s for dear life. His own body could have competed against the car’s damage, and Michael immediately knew the source of the dripping he’d heard so loudly earlier. Across Gavin’s forehead and neck were two identical slices, though Michael was somewhat relieved to see they weren’t very deep. That relief only lasted momentarily, because as soon as Michael’s eyes drifted just a little further down Gavin’s lean frame, his heart stopped.

“Gavin,” Michael croaked, feeling the onslaught of tears heading in his direction. He’d lost his glasses somewhere in the wreck, and the sight before him was blurrier than it usually would have been, but he could tell that whatever it was sticking out of Gavin’s chest, it wasn’t small. “Gavin, please, please wake up.” He squeezed the English man’s hand with all the strength his own worn body could muster, which wasn’t very much if he was being honest, but God he was hoping for something—for some sort of  _miracle_  to wake Gavin up. He wanted Gavin to open his eyes and laugh, poking fun at him for getting so worked up over nothing. He wanted to see the light behind Gavin’s eyes again, the special kind that only ever lit up when Michael was in the room. He wanted to hear one of Gavin’s stupid fucking noises; he wanted to hear anything, fucking  _anything at all_  to prove that Gavin was still there, that he was still  _alive._

Michael was planning on waiting around for an eternity until those things happened, but before he could get comfortable, Gavin was being pulled away from him. Michael tried to hold on to Gavin’s hand as tightly as he could, but Gavin’s own grip was slack and the mess from the blood only served to make their skin slippery.

Crying out his name, Michael was suddenly assaulted by the sounds from outside the car, and it was only then that he realized it was him that had been moving and not Gavin. Someone, some fucking  _idiot_ , had pulled him from Gavin, from his chance to  _save_  him and—

“Sir, I’m going to need you to calm down,” came a stern voice, a voice that Michael could only assume belonged to a police officer or fireman. “Please, sir, you’re not helping—“

“ _I’M_ NOT HELPING?!  _WHAT ABOUT YOU, YOU FUCK?!_ ” Michael shouted, finally tugging free from the man’s grasp. Michael meant to round on the guy and plant his fist directly into his nose, but the world was spinning way faster than he ever remembered it being able to. Before he could even think to catch himself, Michael’s face was meeting the ground, and it was only by the careful and quick hands of a paramedic that he wasn’t also dealing with a broken nose.

“I’ll take him to the truck,” the paramedic relayed to the police officer, and Michael felt himself being dragged away, the dirt no friend against his feet. Tears fell in waves down Michael’s face as he clung to the paramedic, and he realized hazily that his leg must have been broken because it hurt like a bitch to try and walk. But whatever was wrong with him, whatever stupid and pointless thing that was broken on him, was  _nothing_ compared to Gavin, and they weren’t even helping him.

“Gavin!” Michael cried again, trying to rip free from the paramedic and stumble back to the car. The paramedic was stronger than him currently, however, and easily maneuvered Michael’s bruised and exhausted form over to the ambulance. More paramedics surrounded him and hoisted him onto a gurney, but Michael never stopped trying to look for Gavin. When he was finally loaded up into the ambulance and they were closing the door, Michael reached out and grabbed the nearest paramedic’s arm.

“He—he—“ Michael stumbled for words, his brain not functioning correctly. “Just…just wait! He’s…he’s coming with us! We can’t leave without him, can we? We… _we have to wait for him, damn it!_ ”

The paramedic—a younger woman whose badge Michael couldn’t read—gave him a defeated look, but she didn’t respond. Instead she busied herself with placing a mask over Michael’s face, and before he could argue, Michael felt his eyes growing heavy and his world going black.  
  
———————————————————————-

When Michael woke up next, it wasn’t in his bed like he wished it would be. Before he had opened his eyes, he’d spent a good ten minutes awake and with them closed. He was praying to what the fuck ever was up there that this had all been some sort of horrible nightmare and that his best friend would be there next to him, laughing at his morning breath like he was so used to.

Instead, the steady sound of beeping crept into Michael’s ears and he knew immediately that his wish was not granted. Slowly and painfully he opened his eyes, not surprised to find the bright white of the hospital walls and ceiling greeting him.

“Michael!”

Michael’s heart stopped for just a second at hearing his name, but returned to normal when the face that owned the voice popped into his view. It was Geoff, his own eyes swollen and tired. Michael guessed he’d probably been at the hospital all night. Since Michael didn’t have any family, Geoff would have been the next person they called since Michael’s nearest emergency contact was in the wreck with him.

“G-Gavin…” Michael groaned. His voice was even worse than it was last night. He stared at the tubes connecting his body to a machine, and was overwhelmed with the desire to rip them out one by one. Maybe he would get lucky and bleed to death. “W-where…?”

Michael couldn’t find the energy to finish his sentence, but Geoff understood him. Pursing his lips, Geoff shook his head and gave way to a small, barely audible sigh.

“Michael, maybe you should just try and get some rest,” Geoff offered, and Michael began to wonder if Geoff really knew him as well as Michael originally thought he did.

“You should know better than to say something like that,” Michael practically growled, beginning to sit up in his bed (though not without a wince). “You know something like that will only piss me off more.”

“There’s not many things that don’t piss you off, buddy,” Geoff said with a tired smile, reaching out to place his hands on Michael’s shoulders. “Here, at least let me help you get up. Your leg is broken according to the doctor, and you’ve got some pretty serious gashes up and down your back. It took them four hours to pick out all the glass stuck in your skin.”

“Whatever’s wrong with me, it’s nowhere near as bad as Gavin, is it?” Michael prodded, and wasn’t surprised when Geoff went silent.

The door to the room opened then, right as Michael’s feet touched the ground. “Oh, Mr. Jones,” the new man said, and Michael figured he must have been the doctor. “Glad to see you’re awake. I don’t think you should be moving quite yet—”

“Fuck off, dude,” Michael said, though his voice came out immensely weaker than he wanted it to. He lifted an arm, the hospital band around his wrist sliding forward slightly as he pointed at the doctor. “And get out of the way. I’m having a hard enough time as it is using a walking beer bottle as a cane.”

“Hey, I resent that,” Geoff said, but the smile on his lips gave him away. Truthfully, he was glad that Michael was making jokes and if it meant that he had to suffer through every single one them as the brunt of the joke, he would do it.

The doctor sent a glare in Geoff’s direction, but Geoff simply shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing I can do, Doc,” he replied. “He’s determined.”

So the two of them pushed past the Doctor, and Geoff carefully led Michael down the pristine hallways. At one point he offered to get Michael a wheelchair, but he should have known Michael was going to refuse. There was absolutely no fucking way he was going to be a big baby about all of this. If Gavin suffered, he would suffer, too.

The entire walk to Gavin’s room Michael tried to prepare himself for whatever it was he was going to see. Yet no matter how much he tried and willed his body to listen, he wasn’t prepared for what was beyond those doors. There would never have been enough time for Michael to prepare for this.

Gavin was laying on a bed similar to his own. Add a few dozen tubes protruding out of way too many places and they might have passed for twins. Michael had never seen a body look as utterly  _broken_  and  _bruised_  as Gavin’s right now. There were too many purple and black splotches covering the Brit’s body, and Michael was having a hard time even recognizing his best friend.

It would have been comical if Gavin weren’t in such a dire situation. Almost his entire body was wrapped in bandages, just like those stupid fucking cartoons Michael used to watch on Saturday mornings.

“What’s that…thing in his mouth?” Michael questioned aloud as he approached Gavin’s bed. He reached a tentative hand out, ghosting his fingers over the ridges of the long tube that lead to Gavin’s airway.

“He’s on life support,” the doctor stated, causing Michael to jump. He hadn’t even realized the doctor was behind them. “When they found him, he was already gone. They revived him, but only for him to hit cardiac arrest as soon as he reached the hospital. They saved him again, but in order to keep him stable we’ve placed him on life support.”

Michael was in awe, his eyes sweeping over Gavin’s defenseless body with shame and regret. “What…happened?”

 The doctor sighed quietly. “During the crash, a large piece of metal that had broken off from the car was pressed into his chest where it ultimately punctured a lung. Because of that, his body isn’t strong enough to breathe in oxygen, thus starving his heart. We’re doing everything we can, but…” The doctor glanced at Geoff.

“Right,” Geoff responded, clearing his throat afterward, and Michael could swear he was about to cry. Geoff gave a nod and the doctor reached out to place a hand on Michael’s nearest shoulder.

“I’m truly sorry, son,” he spoke, his voice sincere and apologetic. “Just try to realize that this wasn’t your fault.”

Michael was silent as the doctor left the room, and was quiet for a few more seconds before he turned to Geoff with lifeless eyes.

“What did he mean ‘but’?” Michael asked quietly, so quiet even that Geoff had to strain to hear him.

Geoff felt his heart fall into his stomach. He knew that Michael had understood the ‘but’ at the end of the doctor’s sentence.

“He…” Geoff started, wishing with everything in him that he didn’t have to say the next sentence aloud. “He thinks we should start considering taking Gavin off of life support.”

“We can’t make that decision!” Michael roared, slamming his hand down on the metal bar attached to Gavin’s bed. “That’s his parent’s decision, isn’t it?”

Geoff shook his head. “No. Since his mother passed years ago, and since obtaining his visa and moving to America, Gavin relinquished his medical rights to me.”

Michael’s eyes widened, and then narrowed instantly at the realization. “Then we have nothing to worry about, do we? Because you of all people won’t pull that fucking plug. Because you’re fucking  _smarter_  than that, aren’t you? Because you  _know_  Gavin will wake the fuck up soon. You  _know_  that, don’t you, Geoff?”

Geoff swallowed the lump that was growing in his throat. He played absentmindedly with the wedding ring on his finger, twisting it back and forth as he tried to come up with some answer that would please Michael, but also wasn’t an outright  _lie._

“Right, buddy,” Geoff said, conceding with a sigh and feeling as if his heart was in his stomach. “I know. I wouldn’t.”

It seemed like lying was the only option.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I...forgot that I never posted the rest of this story on here. It's completed in it's entirety over on my tumblr, but I've been absent from the Mavin fandom for too long for you to even go look at it, haha. Anyway--here's the rest, for anyone who might still care!

Two months passed faster than Michael would have expected. At the end of the first month, his own injuries were practically healed save for his leg. Gavin’s own injuries had improved just a bit, and Michael was happy to see the return of his smooth, ivory skin as opposed to the purple and black bruising. He wasn’t covered in so many bandages anymore either, and Michael could actually reach out and hold his hand whenever he was in the room by himself.

Geoff had gone back to work after the first week, but told Michael he could take all the time he needed. When he’d said that, Michael hadn’t hesitated asking about Gavin’s own spot at work, wondering if his seat would be reserved just as preciously and importantly as Michael’s. Geoff had given him a tired smile, his hand wound tightly around his cup of coffee.

“Of course, man,” Geoff had insured quietly, patting Michael’s back affectionately and reassuringly. “Of course.”

Even though Gavin’s physical injuries seemed to be healing, that damn tube was never removed from his mouth. Not a day went by that Michael didn’t question the doctor (who he’d learned since being here that his name was Dr. Reid) about life support, never once phrasing the question as if it were hopeless. He’d always ask _when_ Gavin was going to be off life support, not _if_. It was never a question for Michael; Gavin was going to get better. 

Dr. Reid never had a straight answer for him. Sometimes he would just pretend not to hear Michael all together. Perhaps that wasn’t a very professional approach, but he couldn’t bear telling the curly haired kid that his friend should have had his life support pulled a month ago.

One day, Michael got tired of the lack of answers.

“Why can’t you _fix_ this?” Michael growled, shutting the door behind Dr. Reid as soon as he walked in carrying that stupid fucking clipboard that he wanted to break in half. “You’re a goddamn _doctor_. You’re supposed to _help_ people. So why aren’t you _doing_ anything?!”

Dr. Reid was quiet as he set his clipboard down, turning to face Michael and giving him his full attention for the first time in six weeks.

“There is nothing we _can_ do, Mr. Jones—" 

“Michael!” Michael cried, tossing his hands into the air and stumbling somewhat from his broken leg. “My fucking name is Michael, you insensitive, uncaring _prick._ ”

“Michael,” the doctor started over, adjusting his glasses with a sad look on his face. “If there was anything we could do, believe me, we would have already tried.”

“There has to be something, _anything_ ,” Michael pleaded, pushing past the man to stand next to Gavin’s bed. He reached out to wipe a piece of hair that fallen into Gavin’s face, his lip trembling. “Even something you think might not work. Anything, goddammit!”

The doctor was quiet, and Michael was doing everything he could not to bawl like a baby. He would wait for Gavin for forever if he had to, but there was no way he was going to continue sitting by like a fucking dunce, waiting for some answer to fall into his lap. He was going to start making his _own_ answers.

“There is…one thing we could try,” Dr. Reid said hesitantly, reaching out to grasp the clipboard again. He flipped through some pages, pursing his lips. “We could operate on his collapsed lung to see if it helps. I’ve pushed against surgery due to his weakened state. You have to understand my reasoning, Michael. If we do this and Gavin’s body decides it can’t handle it, he _will_ die. And there will be no way for us to help him then.” 

“Do it,” Michael grit out through his teeth, clutching tightly to the bars on Gavin’s bed as a few tears escaped from the corner of his eyes. “Gavin is strong. He can handle it.” 

Dr. Reid stared sadly at Michael, solemnly nodding his head. 

As he left the room, the doctor wondered if it was as obvious to everyone else as it was to him how much Michael loved the skinny kid in the hospital bed.  
  
————————————————-

After the legal matters had been taken care of (such as a two hour discussion where Michael had not been opposed to getting on his knees in order to beg Geoff to sign the medical paperwork), the only thing left to do was what Michael had hated the most.

Wait.

Dr. Reid had promised Michael that he would do the best he could for Gavin, but Michael didn’t trust him. _Couldn’t_ trust him. Everyone in his fucking life had let him down in some manner or other, and the only one who didn’t was the one who’s life was entrusted to an impulse decision Michael had made. Michael prayed for the second time since being in that hospital, holding his head between his hands while his feet tapped impatiently against the tile.

He had been released from the hospital long ago, but he hadn’t left. He’d only showered when Geoff forced him from the room, and if it weren’t for his friend slash boss bringing him extra pairs of clothes, Michael wouldn’t have bothered. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a full meal, instead opting to fill his stomach with whatever was closest and easiest and didn’t take him away from Gavin for too long. In the past three days alone, all Michael had eaten was a pack of M&Ms and a few bites of a week-old turkey sandwich.

Geoff took a seat in the empty chair next to Michael, and Michael noticed that Griffon and Millie were on the other side of the waiting room. Michael tried to smile at them but he was pretty sure it came out extremely half-assed and not at all like he gave a fuck. It wasn’t like he didn’t appreciate their support, but Michael couldn’t gather enough energy to do anything but focus on Gavin.

“Hey man,” Geoff said quietly, and from the corner of his peripherals Michael saw Geoff jerk his head to the side. “The guys are here. They wanted to say hi.”

Michael hadn’t seen them walk in. Lifting his head, he nodded as Ray, Jack and Ryan came into view. Jack and Ryan waved back, but it was Ray that went the extra mile and closed the distance between them, enveloping Michael in a tight hug.

“Dude,” Ray breathed into Michael’s shoulder, and Michael felt himself on the brink of losing it because he _knew_ what Ray was going to say next. “This isn’t your fault, you know that right? Gavin…Gavin doesn’t blame you. You have to understand that. It was just a crash, just an _accident_ –”

“ _Shut the fuck up_!” Michael yelled, pressing his palms flat against Ray’s chest and shoving his co-worker back. Had he not been so enraged, he might have felt bad about it. Instead he chose to send a heated glare in Ray’s direction while his hands balled into fists by his sides. “You don’t know _anything_! This is _absolutely_ my fucking fault. If it weren’t for me, for my fucking _stupidity_ , then Gavin would be fine, we wouldn’t be here, he wouldn’t be in _there_ ,” Michael pointed toward the large double doors that lead to the surgery ward. “If it weren’t me and my choice to let my _dick_ do the talking–”

“What?” Ray interrupted, seemingly less affected by Michael’s outburst than he would have thought. “What are you…talking…?”

Michael squeezed his eyes shut as if that would help block out the world, as if all of them would just disappear once he opened them again. He didn’t want to be here, he didn’t want _them_ here and he wanted _Gavin_ –

“Just leave me the fuck alone!” Michael yelled, seemingly unaware that tears were falling down his cheeks in monstrous waves. Ray reached out as if to try and convince him otherwise, but Geoff was there to stop him before he could, silently shaking his head. He began to lead Ray and the others out of the small waiting room, leaving Michael to be by himself just as he asked.

Sinking to his knees, Michael tried painfully to grip at the floor. He still didn’t have a new pair of glasses, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway because the tears were doing a damn good job at blurring his vision by themselves. They splattered against the floor as Michael sobbed, and then scattered even more as Michael’s fist slammed down into the shallow puddles, over and over until his hand went numb.

“God damn it!” Michael cried, falling forward and letting his head rest on his forearms pressed against the floor. “Gavin, Gavin I’m so sorry…so fucking sorry…”

It was all his fucking fault and he knew it. If he hadn’t sent Gavin that stupid text…  
  
(((!- FLASHBACK -!)))

**Hey, you’re still headed over tonight right? ;)**   
  
_Michael, I told you that I had too many videos to edit as it is… :(_

**So basically what you’re saying is that you’re too much of a chicken shit.**

_That’s not very nice! :’(_

**Let me pick your English ass up and I promise to show you “not nice”.**

_Michael, we can’t keep doing this…_

**Who the fuck says we can’t? Stop being fucking wishy washy, you asshole. Either you want my cock, or you don’t. And we both know that you do.**

_I’ll be ready in five minutes._

When Michael picked up Gavin, there was no way he could have anticipated what was going to happen next. Because you always think that those kinds of bad things that happen to other people? They happen to _other people._ It just so happened that it was Michael and Gavin’s turn to be those “other people”.

“Do you even own another shirt besides that one?” Michael joked as Gavin opened the door to the car, reaching out to tug on the red material playfully. It was the stupid ‘push my awesome button’ shirt that Michael swore Gavin wore in every video ever.

“If you’ve forgotten,” Gavin began, and Michael felt his heart beat increase quickly at Gavin’s accent, “I’ve lost quite a few thanks to a certain sausage in this car.”

“Not my fault I’m impatient,” Michael replied with a haughty smirk and shrug of his shoulders. As he pulled away from the curb and proceeded to get onto the highway, Michael decided to prove just how impatient he was and just how much he didn’t care. “I don’t think I can wait to get to my place…what’s say you put that pretty mouth of yours to work right now?”

“Michael,” Gavin whined, using his special pronunciation of Michael’s name that drove him absolutely bat-shit crazy. “Can’t we just…I don’t know, hold hands or something?” Gavin reached out, snatching the nearest of Michael’s hands from the wheel and intertwined their fingers.

Michael turned his head to give Gavin an incredulous look. “Are you shitting me right now? Holding hands is for people in fucking relationships. We agreed from the beginning that this wasn’t what this was. Ours consists of only the “fucking” part—not the pussy “feelings” part.”

“But…what if I want _more_ than that now?”

Before Michael could respond to Gavin’s surprising statement, Gavin was yelling Michael’s name, and not in the way he had been hoping he would be. Snapping his head back to the road, Michael was one second too late in swerving the wheel, as the large truck in front of him was already too close. He side-swiped the end and felt the back of his car get hit by another, and watched with fear as Gavin’s head slammed into the window and caused it to shatter.

The last thing Michael remembered before everything went black was Gavin gripping his hand.


	3. Chapter 3

Four hours passed before Michael was ready to let anyone back in the room. When the four hours were up and the others re-entered, Michael immediately gave Ray a heart-felt apology, though it came across as tired and worn out as Michael was. None the less Ray accepted, patting Michael on the back silently before giving him a one-armed hug. Even though Michael knew Ray had to be insanely curious about what he’d let slip from his mouth earlier, Michael was eternally grateful that it wasn’t brought up again.

The only person that knew about Michael and Gavin’s “relationship” was Geoff, and that was only because he’d stumbled in on them in the middle of it. It was an irresponsible and idiotic decision to do anything at the office in the first place, and no surprise it was due to Michael’s coaxing that Gavin had even gone along with it. If Geoff weren’t such a damn good boss and friend, the two probably would have found themselves lacking in the job department.

Michael and Geoff hadn’t really discussed what was going on between him and Gavin since that moment. Geoff had tried a few times to instigate some sort of conversation, but Michael never took the bait. The last thing he wanted to do was discuss that with Geoff, especially when he didn’t even know the answers to the questions Geoff would ask himself.

Geoff would ask “when”, and Michael might have been able to throw out some guesstimates, but never anything solid. He and Gavin had been dancing around each other for a long time, and one too many beers removed that last remaining wall between them and exploded whatever sexual frustration they’d been building. Geoff would also ask “why”, and perhaps that was the most infuriating and frightening question of them all. “Why” would force Michael to actually _think_ about his actions, not just follow them, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for whatever realization would come with that.

He’d tried to rationalize with himself that there _was_ no magical realization, that it was just purely sexual and that was that. The problem with _that_ answer, however, was the lack of attraction Michael felt to anyone else that wasn’t Gavin. Sure, he could tell the difference between attractive and unattractive, and there wasn’t anything quite like a nice set of tits, but Michael never felt himself wanting to _act_ on those feelings. It was only Gavin that shut up the side of his brain that discouraged impulse decisions, and it was only Gavin that Michael kept wanting to come back to.

So why Gavin? Why, why, why, why, _why–_

Before he could question himself any longer, the doors to the surgery ward flew open. Everyone’s heads snapped in the same direction, but no one was quite as quick as Michael when it came to ambushing the doctor.

Luckily, Dr. Reid expected it and had his mask removed before Michael could utter a single syllable. Michael was immediately drawn to the grave look the doctor had on his face, and felt whatever was left of his heart plummet further into his stomach.

“He’s in stable condition,” Dr. Reid announced, looking from Michael to the rest of the crew in the waiting room. “His lung responded well, but we’ve still got him hooked up to life support. We aren’t completely assured he will make it, and I wanted to discuss this with you before making a final decision.”

“What are the chances?” Geoff spoke above the small group of friends, his voice wavering. Michael was suddenly glad that Geoff was asking, because he wasn’t sure if he could have managed to speak without releasing the torrent of tears that threatened to spill.

“Right now, we’re estimating he has about a 50/50 survival chance,” the older man replied, and Michael could suddenly see all the wrinkles that adorned his face. It was as if he’d never noticed how utterly exhausted and tired the man looked before now. Maybe he wasn’t anymore fond of sharing this news than Michael was receiving it. “It depends on his will, in all honesty. I concluded that you all would be a better judge of his character than myself.”

It was silent in the room, and Michael was immediately coming up with an argument to convince Geoff to keep Gavin on life support. There was no way that he was going to chance Gavin’s survival _that_ much; if he had known this would be the outcome, he never would have suggested–

“Take him off,” Geoff suddenly spoke up, causing Michael’s head to snap in his boss’ direction.

“ _What_?” Michael snarled, crossing the room faster than the rest of them expected. He reached out and grabbed Geoff by the front of his shirt, his body shaking from rage and fear. “Are you fucking _stupid_? You _heard_ the fucking chance of Gavin surviving this, why would you even–”

“He can handle it, Michael,” Geoff assured, not bothering to try and remove the shorter man from his frame.

“And if he can’t,” came Griffon’s shaky voice, stepping up to support her husband, “then it’s his time, Michael, and you have to realize that. You can’t keep Gavin around forever because you’re…you’re too damn _selfish_ to let him go. Imagine how he must feel…how alone he is…”

“He has me, goddammit!” Michael cried, dropping Geoff’s shirt to face Griffon just as angrily. “I will _never_ leave him, and he…he can’t leave _me_ , because I just…I don’t know what I would do without…” Michael trailed off as he slowly lifted his hands to place them on the sides of his head, shaking it back and forth. More tears slipped down the contours of his already red cheeks, and Griffon felt instantly guilty for what she had said.

“Griffon’s right, man,” came the quite voice of Ray from the opposite corner, and Michael hung his head. “You can’t do this to Gavin if it’s his time. He has to move on. You have to _let go_.”

“ _FUCK!_ ” Michael screamed, spinning on his heel while clutching to the one crutch he had for his semi-healed leg.

The doctor glanced to Geoff, who gave him a quiet nod. Nodding back, Dr. Reid slowly turned and left the room, leaving Michael a sobbing mess and the rest of them to find a way to comfort him.

—————————————————————-

Michael wasn’t sure when he had passed out, but he apparently had at some point and Geoff had taken it upon himself (much like usual) to move him back to Gavin’s room. There wasn’t really a comfortable place to put him, so when he was first stirring Michael groaned in pain. He couldn’t even move without a shock jolting through him, and he had the worst crick in his neck he’d ever experienced. He could only assume that he was curled up in one of those stupid chairs in the corner, all because Geoff hadn’t the heart to put him on the floor.

Why was he even in here anyways?! He needed to be back out there, back in the damn room, waiting for the fucking bomb just like everyone else. He had to be there to see Gavin, to say _goodbye_ to Gavin. He would be fucking _damned_ if he didn’t get to say goodbye. He would sooner dig up Gavin’s mother fucking grave than not get to let him know…to let him know what he would have said to his question.

“ _But…what if I want more than that now?”_

“You can have it,” Michael murmured, still half-asleep and trying to get rid of the pain as soon as possible so he could leave. He tightened his eyes, not opening them yet in an effort not to be blinded by the light. “You can have whatever you want, Gavin. Fucking take it, okay? Just don’t leave me. I’ll give you anything you want, anything at all, just as long as you don’t fucking leave me…”

“Bit of a large stake you have in that statement, love,” came a hoarse voice, and Michael’s eyes instantly snapped open. “But so long as you meant it, how about a kiss?”

“G-gavin?” Michael tried, too afraid to turn his head and not find what he was hoping for. Instead he kept staring at the white ceiling, counting each crack and remembering which parts he already had memorized. His hands turned into fists and he could feel the first shakes setting in.

“Well who else would it be, you knob? I think I am the only person on the planet that wants to kiss _you_.”

Michael threw himself from the chair, a little caught off guard by the distance between himself and the bed. He froze as his eyes landed upon the worn body of Gavin fucking Free, the Brit’s lips curled into a tired smile. There was no tube protruding from his mouth; no blood covering him. He was _absolutely fucking perfect_ and Michael had to use every last bit of restraint in him not to take advantage of Gavin’s offer. He had, after all, just gone through surgery, and a small bit of bandage was peaking through the red shirt he had on.

“Gavin,” Michael breathed again, sinking to his knees slowly while his hands stayed gripped to the brunette’s bed. He let his forehead rest against the thin mattress and sobbed. For the first time since being in that god damn forsake hospital, Michael sobbed because he was _happy_.

“Hey!” Gavin cried, and Michael felt the rough skin of Gavin’s hand press against his wet cheek. It was slower than it normally would have been, and way less graceful, and Michael knew it was because Gavin had been practically in a coma for the past three months. But that didn’t matter, because Gavin was here, Gavin was _alive_ , his Gavin was _alive and here._ “I believe I asked for what you offered.”

Michael’s lips curled into his own smile, his heart slowly but surely crawling back up from the pits of his stomach into its rightful place in his chest. “Right, right.”

Standing up, Michael made sure to be careful with the IV still sticking in Gavin’s arm, and all the other places where he knew Gavin would be sore. He leaned down, and with each inch he grew closer to Gavin’s lips, Michael could have sworn his heart was going to leap right out of his chest.

When their lips touched, Michael found that he never wanted to let go. He was so fucking scared that if he did, Gavin wouldn’t be there and he’d find that he was in some sort of insomnia-induced hallucination; that Gavin was _dead_ and there was nothing he could do about it.

He reached forward and gripped at Gavin’s hair, tugging on the strands as several more tears cascaded down his face. He held Gavin in place, deepening the kiss by tilting his head and running his tongue over Gavin’s bottom lip. He had to have a taste, had to fucking _know_ that he wasn’t going anywhere. That he was _his_ and that no matter how hard the universe wanted to fight, Michael would be right there ready to fight back. And the universe would fucking _lose_.

“Michael, love,” Gavin whispered, finally being the one to break apart their kiss. Michael didn’t increase the distance between them, however, instead reaching out to clutch at Gavin’s jaw possessively, needing some sort of hold on him to prove that he wouldn’t vanish before his eyes. “I’m real. I _promise_.”

It was as if he had fucking read his mind. He hadn’t said anything, and Gavin had just _known_. That had to speak volumes, didn’t it? Someone in the world knew Michael better than anyone ever would, and he had almost been gone. He would have lived the rest of his life without knowing what it was like to be so fucking _in love_ that it made you hurt.

In love.

In _love_.

Suddenly, all those answers to Geoff’s unspoken questions became crystal clear.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're at the end! I'm sorry it took me so long to post this again...I'd still love to hear any feedback, even though this writing is over 3 years old now. Haha. :)

Surprisingly it had only taken a few more days before the doctor gave the okay for Gavin to head home. This wasn’t without plenty of coercing from Michael, of course, but nonetheless it was good news compared to the piles of shit they’d all been sifting through for the past two months. Michael had never known until the crash the amount of catastrophe that could occur in the blink of an eye, and likewise he’d never felt more grateful in his entire life than he did right now.

Dr. Reid had sent Gavin home on the condition that he return in two weeks for his follow up, and that he had someone with him at all times. “There could very well be minor relapse symptoms,” he had explained to a weary Michael, resting one of his experienced hands on the younger man’s shoulder. “It’s important that we catch them early in the instance that his body rejects the antibiotics or pain medication…the last thing we want is further complications, Michael.”

Michael had offered no arguments, and after Gavin was finished signing some paperwork (which took a little longer than it normally would have considering his slowed motor functions), they were headed back to Gavin’s apartment. Even though Michael hadn’t been in such a state like Gavin, he was still slightly blinded as he exited the hospital into the outside world, pushing a weak Gavin in a borrowed wheelchair. It had been literally weeks since he’d been anywhere but next to Gavin’s bed.

Geoff was kind enough to drop off his spare vehicle, leaving Michael with the keys so he and Gavin could drive home in peace. They’d all had their time with Gavin, but Geoff along with everyone else understood what this meant to Michael, and Michael was extremely grateful for their consideration.

Michael hadn’t really thought anything of Geoff’s kind gesture, honestly, seeing as he was too focused on Gavin and making sure that he was comfortable and doing well. It wasn’t until he physically arrived at the car that his stomach started tying itself in knots, and he began to feel like he was going to vomit violently.

“Michael?” Gavin murmured to the curly haired man, his speech a little clearer and less tired than when he had first woken up. It was obvious that something was bothering Michael to the Brit, if his furrowed brows and labored breathing were of any indication. “Michael, love, what’s wrong?”

“I…” Michael stumbled over his words, his hands shaking at his sides. He felt himself begin to hyperventilate. “I don’t…I mean…I can’t…I…”

“Can’t what?” Gavin inquired with concern, reaching out to soothingly rub at Michael’s forearm. “Talk to me, Michael. Please.”

“The whole reason we ended up here, the whole reason you’re…you’re like  _that_ ,” Michael gestured to Gavin’s wheelchair predicament, “is because of  _me_. If I wasn’t such a careless goddamn idiot…If I hadn’t been so…so  _selfish_ …”

“Stop,” Gavin interrupted. His voice was assertive and serious, and Michael turned to look at him. “Stop talking like that. What happened was an  _accident_. It wasn’t your fault and I don’t blame you, Michael—I  _can’t_. It was  _my_  choice to get in the car just as much as it was my choice to even have this…” Gavin gestured between them, “whatever this is with you. So stop before you even start, because I won’t have it. I may be in a wheelchair, but I can still kick your bloody ass.”

Michael felt his lips fall into a frown. “How can you not blame me? How can you not blame the person who…who was driving? The person who  _did_  this to you?”

Gavin gave Michael a long, impatient stare, and Michael tried to swallow down the rest of his insecurities as quickly as he could. As he opened the door to the passenger side of Geoff’s car, Michael sighed inaudibly. Even though Gavin was shutting him up for now, he knew that this conversation wasn’t over. He couldn’t let it be.

Michael bent down and wrapped his arms around the frail form of Gavin, feeling equally terrible once again as the light haired man winced in his grip. Gavin draped his arms around Michael and Michael lifted, taking his time to place Gavin in the passenger seat of the car carefully. Resting one hand on Gavin’s thigh, Michael used his freehand to brush some stray hairs from Gavin’s face, disliking the pained and exhausted expression he wore. Michael leaned forward and pressed his lips against Gavin’s forehead, muttering quietly that everything was going to be alright.

Whether he said that more for Gavin’s sake or his own, he didn’t know.

 ————————————————–

The ride home had been filled with tension so thick, it had almost driven Michael crazy. Gavin hadn’t said anything, but Michael had seen out of the corner of his eye how Gavin’s hands gripped the handle of the door so hard his knuckles were white. Insanity or fear the culprit, Michael chose to drive so slowly he was almost sure a 90 year old woman sped past them flipping him the bird.

When they pulled into the parking lot of Gavin’s apartments, Michael couldn’t help but sigh with relief. Sure, the ride had been filled with plenty of angry honks, but they’d made it home safe and that was all that fucking mattered to Michael. As far as he was concerned, he was never driving another car again. Fuck the outdoors—he would live inside forever.

Getting Gavin up the stairs to his apartment was a little harder than anticipated, however. Gavin was pretty light, especially since being in a coma for two months, but it still took its toll on Michael as he carried him up the three flights necessary to get to Gavin’s place. By the time he’d reached Gavin’s door, he was sweating profusely and breathing like he’d run a marathon.

He didn’t mind, though, because for that fifteen minutes it took to get up the stairs, Gavin had rested his head on the crook of Michael’s shoulder, his breath fanning against Michael’s neck in comforting waves.

After opening the door to the apartment, Michael wasn’t surprised with the chaos inside. Gavin had never been a clean person, really. It wasn’t that it was disgusting as much as it was just disorganized as Hell. How Gavin found anything in the place was a mystery to Michael and everyone else that had ever visited the guy.

“Oh sod off,” came Gavin’s reply from Michael’s shoulder, his hand weakly slapping Michael’s arm playfully. There was that damn mind reading thing again that Michael hadn’t decided if he liked just yet. “As if your place is any better.”

Michael grinned, and was glad that Gavin couldn’t see him from where he was laying against Michael’s chest.

He settled for placing Gavin on the couch after using his foot to kick off whatever was still laying on it. Gavin sighed in relief as his back hit the cushions, and Michael quickly tried to evacuate his personal space so as to make him more comfortable.

“Wait,” Gavin called, reaching out and grabbing Michael’s arm as he was pulling away. Michael almost shivered from his touch. “Don’t leave. Stay.”

With strength that Michael wouldn’t have guessed he had, Gavin tugged Michael back down toward the couch, causing the shorter male to land with an audible “oof” on the other side of Gavin. It was a small couch as it was, and Gavin had turned his body so that they could both lie on their sides. Not only was it uncomfortable for Michael to be that close together, but he couldn’t imagine it was any more comfortable for someone as injured as Gavin was.

“W-what are you doing, you log?!” Gavin cried and began to struggle a bit as Michael grasped onto his sides. “T-that bloody tickles!”

“Wasn’t my intention, though thanks for providing me with one of your weaknesses,” Michael responded with a grunt, shifting his body until he was now underneath Gavin and lying fully flat on the couch. He settled Gavin down on top of him with Gavin’s head on his chest, and finished the position off by wrapping his arms protectively around him.

“Well…this is different,” Gavin finally spoke after a few minutes of awkward silence, and Michael felt Gavin run his palms tentatively over the expanse of Michael’s chest. “You always outright refused cuddling. Why the change of heart?”

Michael’s eyes narrowed and he shrugged his shoulders. “People change, Gav.”

It was quiet again, and Michael had a feeling that it wasn’t because Gavin was anywhere near happy. He risked a glance down at the British man, cocking a brow in confusion while trying to figure out what was going on in his head. Why wasn’t reading Gavin’s mind as easy for him as it was for Gavin to read his?

Suddenly Gavin was pushing his weight against Michael’s chest, trying with all the strength he had in him to get his body off of Michael’s. Luckily he was still weak enough for Michael to catch him before he went and threw himself off the couch.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Michael yelled with worry, tugging Gavin back up toward his chest. He lifted his upper body enough to be able to see Gavin’s face. “Are you crazy?!”

“I don’t want your pity,” Gavin spat, turning his head and refusing to look Michael in the eye. It was clear he was not at all pleased with being stuck there. “I don’t want you treating me any differently than before just because you feel somehow… _responsible_  for me.”

It was Michael’s turn to be silent. He chewed on his lower lip in thought at Gavin’s words, growing steadily angrier and angrier with each passing second. It was irrational and illogical, especially considering he hadn’t exactly told Gavin about his…well,  _revelation_  he’d had a few days ago, but he couldn’t help but be fucking furious that Gavin was making ignorant assumptions. Didn’t he know? Didn’t he have  _some_  sort of fucking clue?

“You’re a dipshit,” Michael finally spoke, but his voice was quiet and not at all reflective of the internal rage he’d been feeling moments before. “An absolute dillweed.”

“ _Excuse me_?” Gavin asked incredulously, lifting his head a fraction to look at Michael. “What do you mean I’m a  _dillweed_?”

“Did Geoff tell you  _anything_?” Michael inquired, reaching a hand out to run his fingertips over Gavin’s jaw, admiring its refinery.

“He told me that I was out for two months,” Gavin supplied.

“And?”

“And what?” Gavin furrowed his brows. “That I was plowed over by a damn piece of metal? I inferred that much.”

Michael sighed, deciding that if he was going to do it, he might as well do it now. “When we got in that accident,” Michael began, gently pushing Gavin’s head back against his chest, “I was so fucking scared, Gav. I have never felt as much fear as I did in that one single moment–and it wasn’t because I was scared of dying. No, no; I could give a shit less about myself. It was that I was scared of  _you_  dying.

“When I saw you laying there covered in blood and that…that piece of metal sticking out of your chest…” Michael cleared his throat, feeling overwhelmed already by the images that flashed through his mind. “I was so fucking scared that you were going to  _die_. I wanted to do everything I could to help you, I wanted to give up my own life for yours, and I was ready to sacrifice  _anything_  to just make you  _okay_  again.

“And as if that wasn’t enough, fate taunted me once more. There you were, alive and breathing, but not  _okay_. And it was my fault. It was  _my_ fault you were in that coma;  _my_ fault that you were on life support. I couldn’t stand to leave your side, too afraid that if I left for even a fucking second, that I would miss my chance—that you would be  _gone_  whenever I got back, and that I would never get to…to…”

“Answer my question?” Gavin spoke quietly, remembering the sleep-induced haze that Michael had experienced when Gavin first woke up. Michael noticed for the first time since beginning his speech that Gavin’s hands had wound around the material of his shirt, holding it tightly between his fingers. Gavin’s hands were shaking, and Michael wished for a moment that he could see Gavin’s face.

“Right,” Michael replied, his own voice wavering from the new onset of nervousness cutting through him like a knife. “And I…I…don’t want to do this anymore, Gavin.”

Gavin’s own heart dropped into his stomach, and his grip tightened its hold on Michael’s shirt. “O-oh. That makes sense then, I guess.”

Michael’s body shook beneath Gavin with a chuckle, and Gavin suddenly felt insulted. His voice turned defensive yet again. “ _What_? Was there some inside joke I missed or something?”

“You really are a dillweed,” Michael joked, and before the other male had time to argue back, he took the open opportunity and pressed his lips against Gavin’s.

It was a rather awkward position to be kissing in, but neither boy found they minded very much. Michael took his time, trying to pour every single thought into each caress from his tongue against Gavin’s lips. Slipping his tongue expertly into Gavin’s mouth, he ran it across Gavin’s own tongue before gently biting down on Gavin’s bottom lip. He pulled away with an audible ‘pop’ and gave Gavin one more quick kiss before pulling away for good. He’d hoped that he’d given some sort of clue to the mind-reader.

“S-so what you’re saying is…” Gavin began. His voice was breathless as his chest heaved with the need for air, and Michael almost felt guilty for kissing him so passionately.  _Almost_.

“I love you,” Michael answered bluntly, giving Gavin a grin. “I absolutely fucking adore your British ass, and whatever this is, whatever  _we_  are? I like it. I like  _us_. And I want there to be…”

“More to it than fucking like wild bunnies?”

Michael laughed. “Not saying we still can’t do that, but, yeah, essentially.”

Gavin slowly laid his head back down on Michael’s chest, breathing in deeply and enjoying the very unique smell that was Michael. It was like a forest, almost—maybe with a dose of something softer like vanilla, but it was definitely Michael and Gavin couldn’t have loved it any more. There was silence between them for a few moments, and then Michael felt Gavin’s body begin to shake beneath him.

Immediately worried, Michael tried to get into a better position to see Gavin’s face, and was surprised when the original shakes turned into full-blown laughter.

 “Did Michael Jones just…share his  _feelings_?” Gavin questioned with a guffaw. “Ouch, my chest, oh God.”

“Fuck you, asshole,” Michael replied. “I want to hit you so badly right now, you crippled fuck. Do you know how hard it was to pussy down and tell you that? You should be a little more grateful.”

Gavin kept laughing for a few moments longer. “Right, right…Thank you, oh gracious one. Would you like me to kiss your ass some more?”

Michael’s eyebrow rose at the implication and Gavin immediately regretted his choice of words. He’d walked right into that one, hadn’t he? “Well, now that you mention it…”

“Shut up,” Gavin responded, gently shoving Michael’s chest. He was fascinated with Michael’s laugh, and felt safe wrapped in his arms. Less than six months ago Gavin would have thought you were crazy if you said he would ever be in this position with Michael ‘Rage Quit’ Jones. He would have laughed and probably gone home that day feeling like utter shit, because somewhere down inside of himself, somewhere deep, a part of him knew he wasn’t good enough for someone like Michael; someone so caring, and so full of self-sacrifice.

“I don’t know if I could have done it if I were you,” Gavin whispered. “Don’t know if I could have…y’know…”

Michael rubbed Gavin’s back, tightening his lips as he thought of all the time he’d spent waiting next to Gavin’s bed, all the time he spent hoping for a miracle, and all the time he’d wondered what was right and what was wrong. In a strange, sick way, the past few months had been a blessing. A blessing in a really, really fucked up disguise, but a blessing nonetheless.

Michael shrugged. “What can I say, I’m a stubborn asshole.”

Gavin smiled. “Yeah,  _my_  stubborn asshole.”

They lapsed into comfortable silence afterward, and Michael was almost positive Gavin was asleep by the relaxing way his chest rose and fell with each breath. It wasn’t until Michael was half-asleep himself, comforted by Gavin’s warmth, that he heard the Brit mutter something softly, so quietly that he’d had to strain to hear it.

“Love you, Michael.”

Michael smiled. “I know, Gav. I know.“


End file.
